The Most Heretical Last Boss Queen Who Will Become the Source of Tragedy Will Devote Herself for the Sake of the People

... Val.

Forsaken by everything in this world, it's my name.

The mother was born and raised in this country. I became in love with my father, who visited me as a merchant traveling from exotic to neighboring countries... and gave birth to me.

My father and I met less than a handful of times in my memory by the time I realized I was traveling around the country. My father left his country's products instead of souvenirs every time he left, so for me, it was "someone who sometimes gives me exotic things." Because I got involved, like, when he read my father's country language with a souvenir book and made me listen. For me, whose skin color was born like my father's, it was much more interesting to me to talk about my father's hometown and culture that he was just the same brown-skinned person as me, than the people in the country in front of him.

And when I was seven, my mother cut me loose from my father, who hasn't been home for more than a year, became in love with another man in this country, and dumped me on a junior sweep.

Originally there was no wonder and abandoned grief at the mother I hadn't seen in my eyes.

He didn't do anything to me before he realized it. Because of his mother, he was able to do a lot of things around him, and if he had a separate place to live and a roof, the environment wouldn't be very different. I also thought it would be easier if I didn't have to be heard complaining and crying about my father.

Until this body continues to be exposed to a world of irrational violence.

In a world where I've only been in the corner of the house until now, only the people out the window, my father and my mother, I didn't know.

Just as the people with different skin colors are "heterogeneous" to me, so am I.

At first he was stoned as he slept in the shadows. I even pointed my finger at the guys dressed in the same dirty way if I walked. Every day, for no reason, the men in the lower echelons were beaten, kicked, trampled and spit on. I didn't know what "resistance" was. I was even, but it stayed, and it was just good for them. I managed to stay alive while fishing for garbage, and one day I realized that fewer of them approached me to scoop me with a blade. But several times, on the contrary, he was robbed of his weapon and killed alive.

It was then that I started using my special abilities. When I thought I was going to die, the rubble wrapped me up and protected me from the knife and their kicks. I could only do about a wall of application, but it was a weapon that I couldn't do better when it came to protecting myself.

When I went to bed and even used this, I no longer had to worry about being struck by rain storms and stones, or being attacked by sleep and torn to pieces, and I no longer wore cloth and trembled.

As my body got bigger, I now imitated them and threatened weaker opponents than myself, and I also learned how to take them away. I sold this special ability, and if I put it inside a big group or organization, I wouldn't be attacked by the others, and I wouldn't have any trouble eating.

Threaten, kicked, snatched, betrayed, hurt, and killed.

It's not hard to survive on your own if you can't even hesitate to do that.

The weak guy gets frustrated... I didn't think anything of it where the others rolled down that path I went too.

As it was, it was about fifteen years ago when I jumped when I heard good money making stories in cliff areas outside the country.

Attack travelers and pedestrians from under the cliff, take them and kill them and sell them off.

It's an easy job to throw up.

It was an opportunity for me to float around from the color of my skin without wishing I could leave the country on top of making good money.

He left the country to meet a rumored opposition group in the cliff zone and talked to them. He also held a good position if he showed special abilities. My special abilities were treasured to work in the cliff zone. It was also cozy that there were no Freesian people but me.

Three years from there. He continued his work without hesitation and came along well.

... Until one day, when people who thought they were pedestrians were asked to crack the alliance between Friesia and their neighbors.

The plan failed, and I was the only one who survived, deprived of everything from my job, my life, my status, my men, and dropped into servitude.

I was an eleven year old kid at the time, by the hand of the First Princess of the Kingdom of Friesia.